


looms but the horror of the shade

by Slutspeare



Category: King Falls AM (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Canon Related, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rated for strong language, ben arnold is the love of my life, emily potter is brilliant, sammy stevens deserves the world
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:47:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22150531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slutspeare/pseuds/Slutspeare
Summary: Sammy:There's something I need to find. I think we're in danger. I think we're all in danger.King FallsLove, Jack.Sammy Stevens survived the Outbreak and escaped from Los Angeles, only to find himself in King Falls, the Safest Town Left in America (according to King Falls, of course). Armed with a scrap of paper and his marketable skill in radio, he manages to convince the town to let him stay, if only to work toward his own goal: finding Jack Wright.
Relationships: Ben Arnold & Sammy Stevens, Ben Arnold/Emily Potter, Sammy Stevens/Jack Wright
Comments: 8
Kudos: 24





	looms but the horror of the shade

**Author's Note:**

> I have been wanting to write a King Falls zombie AU for MONTHS and with the hiatus on, what better time to do so!  
> It might start off a little slow, but will hopefully speed up once I get everything rolling ahahahahahahah. 
> 
> I don't know anything about anything. Enjoy my indulgence. 
> 
> Title from the poem "Invictus" by William Ernest Henley.

The caravan dropped Sammy off outside the walls of King Falls.

“Good luck gettin’ in there, Shotgun,” Red-Eye had told him as he slung Sammy’s bag off of the luggage rack on top of his van. “They’re notorious for not lettin’ anyone inside.”

“Thanks,” Sammy muttered as he caught his duffel. He had forgotten Red-Eye’s real name; the moniker came from the burst blood vessel next to his cornea. “You too.”

Red-Eye whistled through his teeth and got back in the driver’s seat, peeling off after the rest of the group. Sammy watched the car disappear before turning back to the large metal gate.

There wasn’t a doorbell or any other notary device that Sammy could see, but someone must have been watching him, because a voice crackled out of the wall. “What do you want, dipshit?”

“Um.” Sammy said, squinting as he tried to find the intercom that the voice was coming from. “I would like to come in, if that’s okay.”

“Get lost,” the voice said, before another one cut in, much fainter and kinder-sounding than the first.

“Hersch, be nice.”

Hersch’s voice grumbled. “Fine, but when he goes rampant and starts bitin’ yer ass, I ain’t doing nothing, Krieghauser.”

“He’s not a zombie, Herschel.”

“I dunno, that hair looks pretty terrifying.”

Sammy unconsciously reached up to pat his flyaways down, feeling slightly insulted. It really wasn’t his fault that there weren’t reliable showers on the road.

“Sir?” Krieghauser called. “I’m comin’ down to get you, just stay put.”

“Right,” Sammy mumbled. The intercom shut off.

It was only a couple minutes before the large gate creaked, gears waking as it rumbled open. Standing behind it was a man, about Sammy’s age, with sandy brown hair. He had a gun on his hip.

The man must have noticed Sammy staring at the weapon, because he held up his hands. “Don’t worry about that. Only for the Voids.”

“Okay,” Sammy said.

“Troy Krieghauser,” the man said, holding out his hand for Sammy to shake. “I’m a security deputy here in King Falls. Welcome.”

“Sammy. Mind if I come in?” 

“Not at all.” Troy stepped aside, and Sammy stepped into the gate. Troy pressed a button, and the door rumbled closed behind them, sealing them away.

“Smart,” Sammy murmured.

“Follow me,” Troy said.

He led Sammy down the hallway. They paused at a small room with security monitors inside. An older man was glaring at the screens ferociously.

“Hey, Hersch?” Troy said, “I’m gonna take Sammy here to be processed. You alright for a lil while?”

Herschel made some sort of grumbling noise under his breath, which must have meant yes, because Troy smiled brightly and gestured to Sammy to keep following.

“That’s Herschel Baumgardner,” Troy told him. “He’s part of the volunteer security coalition. Not formally trained, but he can handle a weapon, and we need all the help we can get. He seems mean, but he’s really an old softy.”

“Sure.”

Troy chuckled. “Don’t say much, do you?”

“Only when I don't have something to say,” Sammy said. “What did you mean by ‘processed’?”

Troy winced. “I assume you heard about King Fall’s reputation of being the safest town in America?”

“Didn’t quite hear that. Heard that it was tough to get in here, though.”

Troy nodded. “Well, that’s because we have a very stringent security check for any outsiders, before we even think about lettin’ them stay around. It’s all for the town’s safety. You understand.”

Sammy didn’t get a chance to reply, because Troy stopped them next to a metal door. “Here we are.” He opened it, stepping in to what looked awfully similar to a police interrogation cell. The room was completely bare, except for a table and two chairs, one on either side.

Sammy shivered. 

“If you wanna take a seat, I’ll go get Sheriff Gunderson,” Troy said. He left, shutting the door behind him before Sammy could answer.

Sammy put his bags down next to one of the chairs, sitting down and gazing around the room. It was not very interesting. Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulling out the folded scrap of notebook paper that had been keeping him alive for months. He traced its worn edges. He didn’t need to read what was on it. That he knew by heart.

There were footsteps outside. Sammy shoved the paper back into his jeans, wincing slightly as he felt a corner bend. The door swung open, and was immediately filled by a large man, his mustaches slick and the rest of his hair dark underneath a wide-brimmed hat. He too carried a gun, but somehow made it seem more threatening than Troy did.

“Sammy, is it?” The man’s voice was smooth and slow, and Sammy hated him instantly. “Got a last name?”

“Stevens.”

“Samuel Stevens.” Sammy felt his throat clog at his given name. It had been a while since he’d heard it spoken quite like that. “I’m Sheriff Jed Gunderson. I’ll be conducting your interview today. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” Sammy made a conscious effort to unclench his jaw.

“Where’d you come from, Mr. Stevens?”

“L.A.”

Gunderson looked up from the clipboard he was making notes on, surprise snapping across his eyebrows. “Los Angeles? You escaped the massacre?”

“Yeah,” Sammy said.

Gunderson almost looked impressed. “That’s very lucky. Heard there weren’t many survivors after the Outbreak.”

“There weren’t.”

Gunderson’s tongue flickered at the edges of his teeth. “And what brings you up here to King Falls, then?”

“I’m… I’m looking for someone,” Sammy admitted. “We were separated before the Outbreak. Haven’t heard from him since.”

Gunderson made a note. “Why do you think he’d be here?”

“He told me.”

Gunderson raised an eyebrow. “Not many people were coming to King Falls before the Outbreak.”

Sammy shrugged. “That’s all I know.”

Gunderson looked as if he were going to press more, but he simply nodded. “Name?”

“Jack,” Sammy said, “Jack Wright.” He watched Gunderson’s face carefully, but there was no sign of recognition.

“Don’t know of any Jack Wrights here,” the sheriff drawled. He turned toward the door. “Deputy!”

The door opened slightly, and Troy popped his head inside. “Yes, sir?”

“Go and see if we have a Jack Wright in the files, will you?”

Troy nodded and disappeared again. Sammy was surprised to find that he was disappointed.

He waited for Gunderson to ask him something else, but the larger man didn’t. He simply sat and stared at Sammy, who sort of wanted to punch him in the face. Instead, he ground his teeth and looked back.

The impromptu staring contest was interrupted by Troy’s reappearance. “No Jack Wright, sir. Not even in the applicants file.”

Sammy swallowed. “But…”

“He’s not here, Mr. Stevens,” Gunderson interpreted, folding his hands on his stomach. “Never made it here at all, in fact.”

“That’s not right,” Sammy protested, so softly it was almost to himself.

Gunderson splayed his fingers. “So sorry that we can’t be of more assistance.”

“Maybe he’ll still come?” Troy offered.

“Even if he does, you’ll have to contact him some other way,” Gunderson said. “I’m afraid that all of our lodgings are filled, and we simply don’t have enough room or provisions to keep another person—”

“Communications,” Sammy blurted.

Gunderson paused. “Excuse me?”

“I… I worked in radio. Before the Outbreak. I have experience. You could use me.”

Gunderson tilted his head, calculating. “How do you know we’re in need of anyone in Coms?”

Sammy looked at Troy, who gave him a small smile, as if to say, _go ahead_.

“No broadcasts,” Sammy explained, “I’ve been listening to every wavelength and every station I can. Picking them up all around the country. There’s nothing coming out of King Falls. Not a peep. But your neighboring townships all have radio stations and outgoing broadcasts. So…”

“How do you know that’s not on purpose?” Gunderson asked. “Such a safe community. Maybe we just don’t want any outside ears listening in.”

“Maybe,” Sammy said, “But if there’s nothing going out, that means that there probably isn’t anything coming in. You’re cut off from the rest of the world, and that’s not a good place to be in.”

“What makes you say that?”

“It’s obvious.” Sammy leaned forward on the table slightly. To his credit, Gunderson didn’t back down, but even the small increase in power gave Sammy courage. “If you don’t have access to radio, you won’t know when there are large hoards in your area. Changes in the disease. And when a cure is found—”

“If.”

“—you won’t have any clue.” Sammy sat back, folding his hands together. “You may be able to survive by yourselves for now, but how long is that going to last?”

Gunderson was silent. Troy chuckled. “He’s right.”

The sheriff glared at Troy, who simply shrugged sheepishly. He turned back to Sammy, gave him a long look, and then pointed his pen at Sammy’s nose.

“You have a month, strictly probationary,” he said. “Any trouble, and you’re out. We clear?”

“Yes, sir.” The _sir_ tasted sour in Sammy’s mouth, but he wasn’t about to throw away the bone he had just been given.

Gunderson sniffed, and stood up. He didn’t look at Sammy. “Get him checked in, Deputy,” he said. “Take him up to the Shack.”

“Yes, sir.” Troy was grinning at Sammy, who felt his heart warm, just a little.

Gunderson left without a second glance, leaving Troy to come clap Sammy on the shoulder.

“Welcome to King Falls, Sammy,” he said warmly.

“Thanks,” Sammy said, allowing a weak smile to creep onto his lips. “What’s the Shack?”

* * *

The Shack, as it turned out, was just that: a shack.

Troy drove Sammy up the hill on a beat-up four-wheeler.

“Shack’s the highest point in town,” he explained as Sammy watched the rest of the township get smaller behind them. “Better chance of catching a signal up there.”

“I thought you didn’t have radio,” Sammy said.

“We don’t,” Troy replied. “Doesn’t mean we’re not trying.”

He parked in front of the small wooden building. “Get your stuff. I’ll introduce you to the fellas.”

Sammy grabbed his bags, staring at the Shack in wonder. It looked like a fairly sturdy place, but the roof was a tangle of wires, poles, and boxes. It looked like the junk drawer in Sammy’s old studio, the one in which they tossed cords they didn’t know what to do with until the thing was more a mess than functional.

“What the…”

Troy smiled fondly at the little station. “Once you meet Ben, that’ll become clear.” He pushed open the door without knocking. “Ben? Chet?”

“Out here,” a smooth voice called.

“Dump your stuff,” Troy said. Sammy dutifully put his bags on the ground and followed Troy through the building to another door at the opposite end. It was basically one long hallway, with rooms branching off from the walking space.

Outside, a silver-haired man was gazing up at the roof. When Sammy and Troy approached, he broke his gaze to smile without showing teeth.

“Deputy Krieghauser; what an unexpected pleasure.”

“Chet, this is Sammy Stevens,” Troy said. “Sammy, Chet Sebastian.”

“Pleasure,” Chet said. He looked Sammy up and down, then nodded slyly. “Not much of a looker, but he’ll do.”

Sammy’s mouth dropped, but Troy just rolled his eyes. “Play nice, Chet.”

“Wouldn’t dream of doing anything else,” Chet said. He winked at Sammy, then turned back to the roof. “Benny-Cat! Come down! There’s a new dog down here to meet you!”

“What?” another voice called from above them, “I can’t quite hear you—WHOA!”

Sammy looked up in time to see a figure slip on the slanted tiles of the Shack and disappear over the edge, taking a good chunk of random wire with them.

Sammy and Troy dashed around the building, only to find a young man dangling from a length of cord wrapped around his waist. His feet were tangled in some of the wire netting on the roof, leaving him upside-down, curly brown hair flopping around his face.

“Hi Troy,” he said.

“Ben!” Troy said, hurrying over to help him down, “You’re gonna give me a heart attack if you keep on doing that.”

“It’s only the fourth time!” Ben protested. “That’s why I have my safety cord.”

“That’s an extension cord,” Sammy pointed out bluntly.

Ben shrugged, which looked weird from upside-down. “It works, doesn’t it?”

“If by ‘works’, you mean ‘keeps you from getting concussed falling off a roof’, then I suppose,” Troy told him. He finished freeing Ben’s left foot and moved on to the right. “Stop squirming, you’re tangling yourself up more.”

“Where’s Chet?” Ben asked.

“Right here, Benny-Cat,” Chet drawled, leaning up against the side of the building. Sammy jumped a little. “Didn’t expect your entrance to be this dramatic.”

“I’m not dramatic,” Ben protested, just as Troy freed his other foot and swung him right side up. Ben tugged at the extension cord wrapped around his waist, and dropped the rest of the way to the ground. He gave Troy a sloppy kiss on the forehead. “My hero.”

“What were you saying about not being dramatic?” Troy asked, but he was smiling.

Ben ignored him, instead coming over to Sammy and holding out a hand. “Hi, I’m Ben. Ben Arnold. You’re new? And you got in?”

“He’s Coms,” Troy explained. “Has experience too.”

Ben’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Yeah?” Sammy said, flinching when it came out a question.

“Oh, thank fuck,” Ben exclaimed. “We need someone who actually knows what they’re doing around here.”

“You know what you’re doing,” Troy said placatingly.

“Troy, I built robots in high school. Completely different ballpark.”

“And Chet does…?” Sammy asked.

“Whatever needs doing, sweetheart,” Chet said.

Ben mimed throwing up. “You’re gonna scare him off, Chet, stop.”

Chet just shrugged.

Troy shook his head. “I’d better get back. Ben, you help Sammy settle in?”

Ben saluted. “Roger that, deputy.”

Troy ruffled his hair. Ben swatted his hands away. “I’ll see you at dinner.” He gave Sammy a small wave, and disappeared around the Shack. A few seconds later, the four-wheeler started up again, and went roaring back down the hill.

Sammy clenched his fists. He had liked Troy, and was more out of his depth now that his easy, friendly manner was gone. To distract himself from that, he took a closer look at Ben, who was chewing on his lip as he stared up at the roof.

Now that he was on the ground, Sammy could see that Ben was… well, short was really the only appropriate word for a man who stood a good two heads below Sammy. Sammy had a feeling that if he wanted to, he could use Ben as an elbow rest. He had curly dark hair that fell just below his ears, dark skin, and was practically vibrating as he studied the Shack, squinting oddly.

“Looking for these?” Chet sighed, holding up a pair of glasses that were barely held together with electrical tape.

“Oh, yeah! Thanks!” Ben shoved the glasses onto his face, then turned back to Sammy, grinning broadly. The lenses made his eyes look even bigger, and Sammy noticed that they were outlined with freckles. “Now I can see you!”

“Um,” Sammy said.

“That sounded weird, huh?” Ben asked.

“Little bit,” Sammy agreed.

“Sorry,” Ben said, “I really am useless without my glasses.”

“Wouldn’t say useless,” Chet chimed in. “There are plenty of activities to do in the dark.”

“Chet!” Ben rolled his eyes as Sammy flushed red. “Ignore him. He’s a disgusting old man.”

“Silver fox,” Chet corrected. Ben glared at him playfully. “Right, Benny-Cat?”

“Don’t call me that,” Ben said, but there was no real heat in his words. He turned back to Sammy. “Coms, huh? What’d you do? You know, before the Outbreak.”

“I worked in radio,” Sammy said.

Ben looked positively gleeful. “ _Radio_? Oh, sweet!” He looked back at Chet. “Chet, you’re fired.”

“Fine by me, _Benny-Cat_.”

Ben stuck his tongue out.

“You going back on the roof?” Chet asked.

Ben shrugged. “Sammy’ll watch out for me, won’t you, Sammy?” He turned to look at Sammy with bright eyes, and Sammy’s stomach dropped.

Chet didn’t seem at all perturbed. “I’m heading inside, then. Too much sun out here.”

Ben snorted. “How is there too much _sun_? You spend all your time inside a dark little hut! I love it out here.”

Chet was already through the door. “Gotta keep the skin youthful!” He whistled. “See you later, Sammy.”

“Bye,” Sammy said, wiggling his fingers a little uselessly.

“Right then,” Ben said, already eyeing his extension cord. “Back up!”

Sammy bit his lip, watching Ben wrangle a semi-secure knot into the rubber cord, and clambering up a very unstable-looking ladder, before promptly getting his pant leg caught on a stray nail, ripping a hole in the cuff.

“Oops,” Ben said.

Sammy sighed. _What did I get myself into?_

**Author's Note:**

> What's your favorite episode of King Falls AM?


End file.
